


Righteous

by Shyaway95, teslatempest



Series: To Save the Things We Love [12]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Blood and Gore, Denial, Everyone Has Issues, Gen, It's kind of a theme at this point, Kakashi Has Issues, Obito Has Issues, Violence, because Tsunade and Obito are both ruthless, head games, it's happening people!, the pieces are coming together, the truth comes out, things start happening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27173354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shyaway95/pseuds/Shyaway95, https://archiveofourown.org/users/teslatempest/pseuds/teslatempest
Summary: “He was a righteous man. Heaven had blessed him with a clarity of vision in matters of good and evil. His judgement was absolute. His compassion was without boundaries, his mercy was divine mercy, and his anger was the wrath of God.”Obito never claimed to be a righteous man, but he would bring eternal damnation down upon those who would dare to harm what was his.
Relationships: pre-Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito
Series: To Save the Things We Love [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/930750
Comments: 61
Kudos: 254
Collections: Favorite ObiKaka Stories





	1. The Best Response to Terror

**Author's Note:**

> Things are happening! We're finally getting into the meat of the story and we are so, so excited XD The quote we used in the summary is from a Supernatural x NCSI crossover on ff.net called "When Worlds Collide" by elfinblue. It's one of the best SPN fics we've ever read not to mention the best crossover EVER. The writing is perfectly in character and it's just beautiful to read. We highly recommend it! We couldn't find any original source material for this quote, but we loved it so much we had to use it.
> 
> Only warnings for this chapter are for canon typical violence. It was beta'd by the magnificent Dream! 
> 
> We hope you enjoy!
> 
> Shy & Tes

“Pain can be endured and defeated only if it is embraced. Denied or feared, it grows in perception if not in reality. The best response to terror is righteous anger, confidence in ultimate justice, a refusal to be intimidated.” 

**\- Dean Koontz.**

~

Obito shoved himself violently away from his desk before he succumbed to the desire to torch his notes. Again. 

The crackling noise of shifting papers bothered him. So did the flickering light, the faint smell of mold, and the fucking birds tweeting outside that he could somehow still hear through a wall of solid stone! 

Lately everything had been bothering him more, like a constant itch he couldn’t scratch. He felt simultaneously too big and too small for his skin, sling-shotting wildly between the two extremes until he felt dizzy and nauseated. Some days he felt like his very soul was being stretched thin, like a string ready to just snap.

It was unbelievably _aggravating,_ although it was slightly more preferable than the gray apathy that still overwhelmed him when he thought about the plan. Of all the many things Obito was--angry, talented, brash, focused--he had never been apathetic. To feel it now of all times, when all his various plans were slowly, _slowly_ coming into fruition after more than a decade of unending work, was… unsettling.

He took a few deep breaths before finally giving into the temptation to torch his desk, adding to the piles of ash already scattered across the floor. 

It had been a… bad week.

Reconnaissance. That would at least get him out of this fucking room and let him do something productive. He glanced at his world map, a priceless and intricate antique Obito had stolen from the Lightning daimyo’s private collection. The man was hardly the type to appreciate such a beautiful piece of history and the map had served as the perfect gift to himself to celebrate surviving until his eighteenth birthday. Obito rubbed his fingers on the edge of the map fondly before refocusing, eyes scanning the map as he began to consider his options. He’d placed pins and markers on relevant sites, areas of high importance or action, and his gaze roved over them desperately, searching for some task that needed his immediate attention. 

No reason to check up on his puppets in Lightning... The elite shinobi of Suna were still scrambling to fill in the gap left by their murdered Kage after the failed invasion of Konoha....Kiri was still properly destabilized…

Why the fuck was everything going so _well?_

Despite himself, his eyes were drawn towards a patch of stylistically inked trees just outside of Konoha. He’d left it entirely unmarked, just in case, but it might as well be glowing like a freshly activated seal for how blazingly important it was in his mind and in his heart; every inch of the clearing--and the precious treasures living within--was still so vivid within his mind. 

Well, Danzo did have many projects continuously ongoing throughout the elemental nations, any of which could either help or hinder Obito’s plans depending on their progression. He maintained strict surveillance on the ROOT headquarters, as it was only responsible to continue monitoring the wily old bastard, and afterwards it would be completely logical to check up on two of his highest-priority targets. 

If his stomach twisted uncomfortably whenever he thought about Kouichi and Kakashi and the possible implications for his plan… he hadn’t eaten since the previous evening, and he was obviously experiencing mild hunger pains and the coinciding thoughts were just… a fluke. Clearly. The plan was _necessary,_ after all, and so Obito’s personal feelings about the unintended consequences were irrelevant. Even if they made his once almost-overwhelming enthusiasm for the plan wane until every day felt heavy and wrong and _painful--_

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He just wanted to… breathe. He wanted to breathe and relax and hear the sound of laughter echoing through the trees.

Kamui whirled around him almost without conscious thought, his pocket dimension familiar and dark, save for one pillar that served as the only spot of color in the otherwise dreary landscape. Obito firmly ignored the stack of gifts that would never make it to the intended recipient--pens and strings and pictures of the night sky--and stepped back out in the depths of ROOT headquarters. He wrinkled his nose against the usual musty smell of dozens of people living and working in the same place for months at a time before he noticed that something was off. 

ROOT headquarters was always quiet--without actual personalities of their own, ROOT agents weren’t exactly chatty--but there was still the bustle of moving bodies, the grunts and thuds of training agents, and the rush of scientists and scholars completing their research. 

Now though, the hallways were deathly quiet, like a crypt. 

Unease twisted in Obito’s stomach, like the panicked writhing of a trapped animal attempting to escape. Something had happened. Something was wrong. 

A quick teleport through Kamui brought him directly into Danzo’s office, forgoing any sense of stealth in his ever-increasing panic. As usual, it was clinically clean, as though even dust feared to be enclosed with the man. 

That made the file sitting innocuously on the otherwise spotless desk into a truly ominous warning sign, like the first tell-tale rattling sound before you saw the snake hidden in the grass. It felt like his whole body was shaking, low level tremors shattering him apart at the cellular level. It could be anything, really. ROOT was a ruthless wetwork organization that ran on fanaticism, spite, and bureaucratic paperwork. This file could be related to any number of Danzo’s plans. It didn’t have to _mean_ anything.

Obito repeated it to himself, over and over again as he slowly approached the desk, leaning over the edge like the file was a wild animal that could rear up and bite him at any second. He was being completely irrational, but for once he couldn’t bring himself to care.

There was too much at stake.

One glance at the file’s title and Obito’s blood ran cold. He knew that file. He had seen it almost five years ago when he’d gone searching for answers. He _knew_ that _fucking_ file _._

The air around him turned thick with tension and fear and, feeling as though he was moving through molasses, he slowly reached forward and opened the file. The newest update in the project sat at the top, written in an incongruently elegant hand. 

_Subjects Wolf and Heir have been located. Retrieval of subject Heir has been initiated with additional disposal plans of subject Wolf. Subject Heir is to be retrieved unharmed at all costs for appropriate indoctrination. Project Fukkatsu will continue as originally planned._

Obito stared at the page blankly, trying to process the words around the buzzing of his brain and the painful tightening of his chest. 

Danzo had found Kouichi. 

Kouichi was in danger. _Kakashi_ was in danger. They would be dead, or worse than dead, broken and reduced into nothing more than slaves for Danzo’s rote dogma, unless-- 

Pain screamed through Obito’s chest and out into his limbs, slamming him to his knees as he dropped the file, papers spilling out across the floor. He might have cried out, but it didn’t matter, nothing else mattered— 

Kamui ripped open around him and he forced himself forward, desperately wracking his brain for the last known location of his fam-- of the two Hatakes. Hound had been seen in Southern Tea Country only three days before, which meant that Kakashi might be safe, but Kouichi had to be with Maito and that-- that wasn’t enough, not nearly enough to fight off a squadron of ROOT agents. 

Kamui twisted open again, the darkness falling away to light as Obito landed on a familiar tree branch, stumbling only slightly from the agony twisting his insides apart. The pain was nearly unbearable, worse than anything he’d ever felt before--more agonizing than when he’d nearly lost his left arm when he was ten, more than the cave-in that had crushed half of his body, worse than re-learning to walk on limbs that seemed to have a mind of their own--and it took everything in him to force his eyes to focus on the cottage and the clearing in front of him. 

It was complete chaos. 

Somehow, the agents had broken through the seal barrier. There were char marks scarred into the forest floor all the way around the clearing, evidence of where each seal had been overpowered and destroyed. There were a few dead ROOT agents burned almost beyond recognition scattered throughout the trees, victims of the barrier before it had been shattered. 

Maito was standing in the middle of the clearing, his face uncharacteristically blank and a frightful look in his eyes as he fought four agents at once. He was barely holding them at bay, every movement fast and economical as he moved through taijutsu at a speed Obito had never seen before. Three agents already lay still at his feet, bones at angles unnatural to the human body. 

Kouichi was also fighting. The ROOT agents were being far more cautious around the young shinobi, moving in around the boy’s slightly wild jutsus and precise kunai with an uncharacteristic hesitation. 

Obito frowned, otherwise frozen in the tree as his mind analyzed the situation. Why were they being so… gentle? 

Unbidden, a line from the file popped into his mind. 

_Subject Heir is to be retrieved unharmed at all costs._

ROOT agents were assassins, not kidnappers. The skill sets were different, maybe different enough— 

One agent tried to get closer to Kouichi, lunging through an open spot in his guard. The boy spun, kunai flashing as he sliced the agent across the thigh. Arterial blood sprayed out as the agent fell, splashing Kouichi in the face and stunning the kid for only a second, but the distraction was enough for another agent to grab onto Kouichi’s arm. 

“Let me go! Let me go!” 

Obito’s heart felt like it was tearing itself in two at Kouichi’s panicked yells. He watched as Maito turned in response. Desperation was etched into every line of his body, and the agents took advantage of his distraction, stabbing a kunai through his tricep. 

“No! Leave Uncle Gai alone and let me go!” Kouichi screamed, trying to kick and pull free of the grip on his arms, struggling against the agents trying to lift him off the ground. 

The agony built higher and higher in Obito as he watched a ROOT agent begin a set of hand-signs behind Kouichi’s head, trying to keep up with the ferociously struggling child. He needed to move, but he was frozen in place as if his feet were trapped in stone, his brain locking up as invisible fingers squeezed tighter around his heart. 

Two agents managed to force Maito to his knees, a third repeatedly striking him in the face, apparently forgetting the kunai on his belt in his desperation to keep the elite jounin _down._ Kouichi kicked against the grip the ROOT agents had on him, still screeching in both fury and fear. 

Obito almost fell off his branch at the sound, agony radiating through him like shards of molten glass, like ice picks slamming through his ribs, like being crushed all over again. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe-- 

_The plan!_ something screamed at him from inside his head, iron bands tightening around his skull. 

_Kouichi will die if you don’t do something, you useless idiot!_ Obito screamed back at himself, trying to move forward. If he could even twitch a finger--

_The plan is everything!_ the voice thundered, the iron bands becoming red-hot, needles in his lungs as he tried to breathe. It made Obito snarl in rage, at how _pointless_ his fucking thoughts were in the face of what he was witnessing. He needed to move, his son _needed_ him, and that was more important than anything else in the world.

_He’ll die anyways! His life is insignificant in the face of the plan! You know this!_

The thought made Obito freeze. 

There was a single moment, like the most fragile intake of breath. 

_If the cost of the plan is Kouichi’s life… then I’ll rip out the foundations myself and watch it burn._

Teetering. Falling. A crash, like the sensation of fine crystal shattering, overwhelmed him with unbelievable force before it was suddenly gone and a gaping hole was left in its wake. 

Obito was gasping for breath as the pain stopped, almost light-headed with relief at the sudden cessation. The world spun for a moment and he marveled at the lack of pain. 

“Uncle Gai! No! No!” 

The cry hit him like a lightning bolt, racing through Obito’s limbs and waking him up for what felt like the first time in years. Rage coursed violently through Obito’s veins and he _moved,_ disappearing through Kamui and reappearing behind the ROOT agent holding Kouichi, shakujou out and moving, so fast that the agent had no time to react before his head fell to the ground, hot blood splashing across the grass. 

He grabbed Kouichi, being careful to avoid the freshly blooming bruises, and moved him away from the corpse, taking a moment to look the boy over. He was splattered with red, his face was pale and scared, but his eyes remained determined as he brought his kunai to bear, the sharp edge glinting in the sunlight as he faced Obito down with a suspicious stare. 

Gods, he looked so much like Kakashi. 

“Neutralize the threat!” 

Obito snapped his attention back to the present at the yell, feeling his rage return at the sight of the incoming enemies, the ROOT agents abandoning Maito to swarm the newest threat. He allowed his torso to become incorporeal, kunai passing harmlessly through him as he slashed through the oncoming ROOT members with a bloodthirsty viciousness he rarely allowed himself. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Maito neatly break the neck of a female agent who tried to take advantage of his injuries before moving to snatch Kouichi out of harm’s way, trying to keep him out of the line of fire. 

Good. Kouichi should be as far away from this as possible.

The staff in his hand became hot and slick with blood as he sliced between the ribs of the nearest ROOT agent. Quick as a breath, he spun on his heel and phased through an agent rushing at him from behind, stabbing down at the man’s neck, severing his spinal cord and letting him drop to the ground. 

A kunai slipped unexpectedly past his guard and sliced his arm, and Obito automatically unleashed a fire jutsu in the agent’s direction, so hot that it practically incinerated his flesh before he could even scream. Obito dropped down and slid between the legs of another agent, slashing his thighs open as he passed. Blood splattered across his cloak as he danced between the remaining agents, slaughter left in his wake. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another ROOT agent go flying, and he realized that Maito had literally drop-kicked the shinobi in the throat to keep him away from Kouichi. The man landed with a loud crack, gasping desperately for only a few seconds before he finally ran out of air. 

“Report to--”

Obito pulled on the Mokuton and three meter-long shards of wood shot up through the dirt and slammed through the bodies of two retreating agents, skewering them in place and killing them instantly. Looking around, breath heaving erratically through his lungs, he realized that was the last of them. 

Maito had pulled himself to his feet, blood slowly dripping from his wounds. Kouichi was just behind him, pale and eyes so wide that the whites were visible, kunai in both hands as he moved into a formal stance. Both of them watched him with a healthy dose of wariness, but Obito couldn’t bring himself to feel irritated.

Everything just felt so _light,_ as though he was barely anchored to the ground. 

“I appreciate your youthful assistance in this matter,” Maito stated, his cheery words at odds with his solemn tone as he stepped more fully in front of Kouichi, blocking him from Obito’s sight. The missing-nin felt his teeth grind irritably at the move, but he understood why Maito had done it. Obito was an unknown threat, and he was only trying to protect Kouichi. “But I must ask for your identity and intentions.” 

Obito hesitated, suddenly unsure of how to answer. How could he possibly answer that? That he was a dead man, come back to life? That his only intentions were to protect and shelter and defend?

He wanted to say something, _anything,_ but there was no time. Danzo had already--

Danzo was still alive. 

The crushing pressure in his chest was no longer bothering him and Danzo was alive. 

He could do something about that problem now, because the _pain was gone._ He could barely remember the last time he had been so entirely free of pain; nothing could stop him from hunting that bastard down and ending him for good. The freedom of that thought was completely euphoric. 

“I’m no threat to either of you,” he finally answered, flicking his shakujou sharply in order to remove the worst of the gore. “But if you’ll excuse me, I need to go kill someone.” 

He turned to re-enter Kamui, his mind already racing through the _possibilities,_ but a pair of familiar dark eyes caught his and Obito felt frozen to the spot in indecision. 

Kouichi was staring at him. The boy remained utterly still, ready to move at the first threat, he couldn’t even see Obito’s face, and yet he still stared. 

With a start, Obito realized that this was the first time his son had _seen_ him. The boy had no idea who he was. 

“You’ve grown up so much," he blurted out, his words almost tripping over themselves as they fell awkwardly out of his mouth. He was unsure of what else he could say, completely unable to stop the waterfall of emotion he had held for so long. “I’m so glad you’re alive,” he finished, cutting himself off so that he could refocus on his goal. The last thing Kouichi needed was to have a functional stranger blubbering all over him without any apparent reason. Especially after the trauma of today.

Kouichi’s eyes were widening even as Obito stepped through the hole in space, cutting off the beginning of Maito’s no doubt confused and suspicious questions as Kamui closed behind him. 

It took no effort at all to move forward, adrenaline beginning to rush through his veins in anticipation of finally, _finally_ completing this goal, so many years overdue. 

Kamui split open around him and revealed a dark room. The two bodyguards died instantly, kunai embedded in their throats. The third man in the room twitched back instinctively, blades coming up in self-defense, but he was too slow to do anything as four more of Obito’s kunai flew, purposely missing the man’s vital organs and pinning him to the wall.

“Hello, Danzo,” Obito purred darkly, lazily spinning his shakujou. Danzo’s exposed eye widened with fear even as anger pulled a ferocious scowl across the visible part of his face. “I’ve been waiting for this moment. We need to have a little… chat.”

Danzo had hunted Kouichi and Kakashi for years, after all. A quick death was too good for him.


	2. Mercy for My Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If she had been told how today was going to go, Tsunade would have made a greater effort to sneak another bottle of sake into her desk.

“May God have mercy for my enemies, because I won't.”

\- **General George Patton**

~

The day had started off so well. 

The rising sun had been covered by a layer of low-lying clouds, dyeing them a beautiful orange color. Tsunade had taken it all in from the Hokage Tower’s roof, for once drinking a bracing tea instead of her usual sake. It had felt like the beginning of a good day. That alone should have been enough of a warning that Tsunade’s day would descend into absolute chaos.

She was cursed, after all, and nothing came easy. Especially peace and quiet.

If she had been asked this morning, basking contentedly in the dawning light, Tsunade would not have anticipated a strangely dressed, masked shinobi teleporting -- as in  _ literal  _ teleportation, not just a lightning quick shushin, but an  _ actual portal _ opening up in front of her desk, a distortion of space-time that ripped open to reveal a writhing mass of chakra and rage -- into her office and dropping a decapitated head onto her just-finished paperwork, splattering ink, blood, and gore across the desk like some sort of vicious and bloodthirsty cat. 

Under the gore, the terrified expression, and the pallor of death, the head belonged to Shimura Danzo. If she had known this was going to be just the beginning of her day, she might have made more of an effort to sneak another bottle of sake into her office. 

Distantly, she could feel the tremors in her hands, a cold pit of fear expanding out from her gut and spreading inexorably up her spine as her eyes caught on the globules of blood dripping,  _ dripping _ down from the corner of her desk. She only allowed herself a moment of sheer panic before wrenching her gaze back up to the situation at hand. This man had broken through to the heart of their village seemingly without any trouble, avoiding the roving patrols and setting off no alarms even while looking like he’d just massacred a whole village. 

More disturbing was the realization that, underneath all that anger and killing intent, this man was not in the least bit nervous. His robe was slashed, blood leaking slowly from several wounds, and part of his mask had cracked, revealing pale skin at his temple but still obscuring his identity. There was no sweat, or nervous tics, or even an unnatural stillness. He was perfectly comfortable standing in front of the Hokage’s desk, wounded, splattered in a councilman’s innards, and completely unafraid. 

This man was  _ dangerous. _

Tsunade was suddenly very aware that there were over one hundred and fifty people in the building at that moment, over half of which were non-combatants. 

She had to tread very, very carefully these next few minutes. There were too many lives relying on her ability to maintain control.

_ Attack?  _

Tsunade spared a moment to respond to the ANBU guard, one of three in the office poised to move from hidden positions. 

_ Hold.  _ She signaled back with a casual slide of her fingers across the desk. So long as the missing-nin didn’t attack, there was no need to start a fight that would endanger the tower. 

She met the single, burning eye, utter calm forcibly in place like steel armor.

"Do you have an appointment?"

The man huffed what could have been a laugh if it hadn't been so wretchedly angry. 

"No, I don't. I'm a very busy man, as you can see," the man said with a mocking little gesture at the severed head. "None of your pre-approved time slots fit into my schedule."

"So, you decided to just barge in at your convenience? How unprofessional."

The man’s head twitched and  Tsunade had no doubt that, had she been able to see his face, there would be a sneer painted across it.

"Unprofessional? Perhaps, but I hardly think  _ you _ should start throwing such accusations around when your desk holds more alcohol than paperwork.” The man snorted, every movement full of contempt.

"But at least you have an excuse for being piss poor at your job,” the man continued to jeer, his shoulders loosening in a faux-casualness obviously meant to rankle her. “Unlike your predecessor.”

That Tsunade could not let stand. Not so soon after… Not when he’d just given his life to protect Konoha. This man had  _ no right. _

"Sarutobi was the wisest and most respected Hokage since the village’s inception! He--”

"He was a fucking indecisive, selfish piece of shit ruled by misplaced  _ sentiment. _ He allowed  _ this man _ \--” the missing-nin paused his rant to stab his finger at the still dripping head. Tsunade refused to allow her attention to be snagged by the torn and bleeding flesh, keeping her eyes on the incensed man in front of her, her own anger rising at every word out of his mouth. “--to rip his village apart from the inside while he sat back and did  _ nothing, _ all because they were  _ old friends.” _

This man was… alarmingly well-informed for a missing-nin. Very few people outside Konoha, and not many in Konoha, were aware that Sarutobi and Shimura were once close friends and teammates. It had been many years since they had shared that kind of comradery, and the vast majority of foreign enemies that had faced them together in battle were dead. Could he be a former Konoha shinobi? Tsunade quickly ran through the list of Konoha born missing-nin in her mind, but none of the physical descriptions were a close enough match. Besides, that cloak... 

Then again, for a man who can teleport in and out of the Hokage Tower at will, perhaps no amount of information was beyond his reach. 

_ That, _ Tsunade thought,  _ is a rather terrifying idea. _

"Bold words from a missing-nin,” Tsunade forced out through her discomfit, refusing to cede any ground. “Tell me, how many people and responsibilities did you abandon to pursue your own selfish desires? Is your honor truly bought so  _ cheaply?” _

Tsunade raised her eyebrow judgmentally and scanned the man with just enough contempt to piss someone off. The man underwent what looked like a full body twitch, shoulders rolling and the tendons in his neck pulling tight with tension. 

"Spare me the rhetoric,  _ Princess. _ I've heard it all before. Though I do find it amusing that you assume my supposed betrayal is somehow worse than yours, when you not only walked away from your own village  _ willingly, _ but also let this filth walk free on your own streets, despite being intimately aware of all his crimes against those you claim to protect. For shame, Godaime-sama, for  _ shame.”  _ He all but hissed out the last word, one had clutching at the front of his shirt in a mock swoon.

Tsunade scoffed derisively even as the ANBU around her shifted in discontent, obviously aching to put this man in his place. She made another  _ Hold _ signal with the hand hidden at her side and they settled down reluctantly. She narrowed her eyes at the man’s hand, still resting at his chest, watching the way he clenched the fabric too tightly and seemed to press and rub at the apex of his sternum.

"Being lectured on the importance of truth and honesty by a missing-nin in a mask is treading dangerously close to gross hypocrisy,” she said archly. “Tell me, do you have a  _ reason _ for being here, or did something happen to your usual pulpit and you had to improvise?"

If the man had been a cat, Tsunade is fairly sure that he’d have been bristling at her blasé tone.

"I'm here because you're too busy getting drunk to clean up your own fucking messes."

Tsunade let the comment hang between them precariously for a moment, like finely spun glass tilting slowly towards an inevitable impact.

"Excuse me." She enunciated it slowly, like a freezing glacier sliding across a barren landscape -- unstoppable and frighteningly cold. 

It didn’t seem to phase the man one bit.

"What? Can't handle the cold hard truth when it can't be found at the bottom of a bottle?" he scoffed. 

“And how, precisely, is having Shimura Danzo’s severed head on my desk remotely close to cleaning up this mess?”

The terrorist spread his arms broadly, a gesture of pure showmanship that almost hid the odd spasm in his shoulders.

“You seemed incapable of killing off your little infestation, so I thought I’d take care of it for you. I’ve always been quite good at the extermination of  _ pests  _ for the good of humanity. It’s a bit of a pet project of mine, ridding the world of those who aren’t worthy to live in it and ensuring a world of peace and prosperity for all those who remain. A noble goal, by anyone’s estimation, and this  _ line-thieving bastard  _ had no right to exist in such a world, where he can keep preying on all those defenseless and abandoned children.  _ You’re welcome,” _ he finished, his tone dripping acid.

Tsunade felt like her blood froze in her veins and, for the first time since this man had invaded her office, she truly struggled to maintain her composure.

The reference was oblique. It was possible that she was reading too much into it.

But the most recent instance of line theft Danzo had committed had resulted in the creation of Kouichi.

Somehow this man  _ might know about Kouichi. _

More than that, it seems like the line theft was his main motivation for killing Danzo. That implied that this man, some way or somehow, had been a victim affected by Danzo’s tendency to steal clan children. If she was right, and if it was the existence of _ Kouichi  _ that had triggered this man into action, then it was possible…

Could he be an Uchiha?

It couldn’t be Sasuke, and the man seemed too mature, too tall, and his hair was too short to be Itachi. But there was no one else. Every other known Uchiha was dead, recorded and verified, and yet it was the explanation that made the most sense. Perhaps Uchiha Itachi had physically matured -- greatly -- in his years away and decided to cut his iconic hair?

The only way to confirm it would be the Sharingan, if he had one, and the best way Tsunade knew to incite an Uchiha to activate their clan dojutsu was to _piss them off_.

Easy enough. The way the man proudly wore his black and red robes gave her an obvious target. She drew her gaze up and down his body slowly, taking in the ripped robes with a condescending little sneer.

"Poetic. For a terrorist," Tsunade drawled out lazily.

The man’s anger seemed to flare throughout the room like a living thing and, from the black and shadowed depths of his mask, the red light of an activated Sharingan swirled into existence.

So, he  _ was _ an Uchiha.

Had she not been holding onto her poise with an iron will, Tsunade would have frozen. As it was, her mind started racing. 

There were three living people left with activated Sharingans—Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Sasuke, and Hatake Kakashi. The appearances of all three dojutsu were thoroughly and consistently documented, standard procedure in case there was an attempt at line theft by one of their enemies. 

This Sharingan, spinning rapidly in the man’s anger, settled into a mangekyo pattern that did not match either living Uchiha. 

It was, however, a perfect match to Kakashi’s. 

Before terror could build beyond the first, terrifying spark, cool logic took its place. Her eyes slid away from the danger of direct eye contact as she observed the flesh around it, now illuminated by the dojutsu’s eerie chakra glow. 

_ It didn’t appear to be a recent transplant, it's too well healed. Kakashi had checked in barely three days ago and even the use of a healing jutsu wouldn’t heal a transplant that fast. Besides, it’s on the wrong side and swapping an eye to the opposite side of the head would take even longer to adjust to and use in combat; it’s a more complicated surgery.  _

The eye staring across at her balefully was definitely not Kakashi’s. Which led to a very important question -- how the hell did this missing-nin have a Sharingan that matched Kakashi’s? 

_ “Terrorist?” _ the man hissed out angrily, his bloody hands curling into fists at his sides. There was a slight tremor to them and Tsunade snapped her eyes back up to face his mask, concentrating intently on every part of his body she could see. 

There, at his temple, was a sheen of sweat, out of place as he continued to speak.

“Bold words from the most powerful mercenary in the elemental nations! How many deaths do you have to your name now? How many murders for the clink of coins in your hands? How many lives have been ruined, how many innocent people cower at the might of your terrible,  _ great _ village when you decide to take on the role of the gods to rearrange the world for an eternally corrupted government?” The man had begun to pace while he ranted, gesticulating wildly as his focused fury bled into long-standing hate and frustration. “You sell your loyalty to the highest bidder, and in return you strangle the potential for world peace in its crib to keep the balance of power! You sit here in your ivory tower, playing chess while your children are slaughtered on battlefields and in back alleys! And you justify those monstrosities with pretty words and polite treaties even as you keep giving the orders!”

Tsunade snorted, still ladylike, using the sound to cut him off, burying the coals of anger in her own heart. Clearly he knew nothing, if he did not know that Nawaki’s death still cut her to the quick, even decades later. 

“And you’re a paragon of virtue, are you?” She had her own qualms about shinobi work, but it was certainly far more complicated than this missing-nin wanted to boil it down to be. “Perhaps now is the time to inform you that I recognize those robes you wear, and they are not associated with an organization that promotes peace and happiness and childhood daydreams. If I am a mercenary or a monster, then you are a blight upon the world.”

“I am going to save this world!” he hissed.

“How? By beheading all the people you don’t like?”

“I wouldn't have been forced to act if you had done your fucking job in the first place. Then again, I guess you're used to failure, given your history.” 

Well. The man’s profuse sweating was obviously not a sign of nervousness if he was willing to hit so low below the belt with  _ her _ of all people. Tsunade swallowed heavily at the memories and deep-seated despair that his words dredged up from the depths of her psyche and tried to focus on the conversation at hand. There was something wrong with this man, besides the obvious. Something  _ physically _ wrong, and Tsunade was damn well going to figure it out and use it to her advantage. 

There was no way in hell that she was allowing him to leave her office except in chains or  _ dead.  _

“There is something to be said for the subtle approach. For instance, it results in less collateral damage. Which I will now have to repair, thanks to your actions,” Tsunade added with an icy and vicious emotion twisting her lips up into a mockery of a smile. 

The man snorted, eye narrowing behind the orange shell mask. “That is the least important concern here.”

Tsunade lifted her eyebrow at him. “Given that you and I clearly have different priorities, making assumptions about my concerns would be unwise.” In the corners of the room, the ANBU were all tense, ready to spring into action at her command. Her keen eyes scanned up and down his body continuously, searching his posture carefully. There, a slight sway that was hastily corrected, the man’s knees going stiff to keep him standing tall. The ongoing, continuous flexing of his arms and the slight twitch of his neck, as if he was stifling a stronger movement or reaction, were becoming more pronounced the longer their conversation drew on.

Interesting.

How much further could she push him?

“You can afford to keep your priorities in sight, seeing as you have so few of them. I, on the other hand, must consider the wellbeing of my entire village. I know that must be a difficult concept for you to imagine.”

The man snarled, hands once again clenching and unclenching spasmodically at his sides. Drops of sweat trailed down his throat as his breathing grew more labored, although Tsunade was uncertain if the man noticed.

“And I, unlike you, don’t constantly fail those who are depending on me!”

Tsunade clamped down on her instinctive feelings of anger, refusing to lash out recklessly and instead focused on the slight feeling of triumph suffusing her body. He was repeating his insults, which meant he was wearing down. She would outlast him. She would  _ corral  _ him.

She would find out what he knew.

“Are these people you’re  _ supposedly _ helping actually depending on you? Or is this simply another delusion alongside saving the world?”

The man actually jerked, one hand pressing up against his chest, curling on himself and breathing heavily even as he spat his response at her furiously. “You know nothing about what I have accomplished. My actions, what I do, I-- I  _ help _ people!”

Tsunade lifted an eyebrow, watching as he gasped for breath. Any moment now. Just one more push. 

“Do you?”

The Uchiha lurched forward, obviously attempting to lunge at her with the last of his strength but ultimately crumpling to the ground, one hand clawing at his chest as he gasped for air. The ANBU behind Tsunade reacted, automatically pulling out weapons and rushing forwards to forcibly detain the intruder. 

Tsunade walked over to the struggling man, reaching out with her chakra sense as she approached, and swore at what she found. 

“Get reinforcements in here now and evacuate the tower!” she snapped urgently. 

If this was a trick, some deliberate distraction on this man’s part... she would not put her people at risk even for a high priority, valuable target like this missing-nin was turning out to be. 

She moved even as the ANBU rushed into action at her command, already at the terrorist’s side as she flipped him onto his back and shoved off the mask. His one remaining eye was wide and terrified, his face startlingly young after their venomous conversation, as he gasped for breath, clawing at his chest. Tsunade spread her senses out again, able to gain much more information now that she was at such close range, and she could  _ feel  _ his heart beating wildly, uncoordinated and uncontrolled, but there was no sign of a blockage or other damage that would usually cause this sort of abnormal cardiac rhythm--

“Tell Jiraiya to prep a secure medical room and get me a kit and a defibrillator!” Tsunade ripped the man’s robe open, forcing herself to move through her shock with nothing more than a clenched jaw when she noticed the horrible scarring across the right side of his abdomen. She pressed her hands together, feeling her chakra build up quickly and steadily, like the incoming tide. 

“This is going to sting,” she said. The look on the man’s face at her flippant remark was vicious enough to burn and Tsunade was almost impressed that he managed so much sass while having a heart attack. Seemed he didn’t appreciate her particular brand of humor. Too bad.

She planted one hand on each side of his chest and released her built up chakra in a concentrated burst. A subtle string of lightning chakra blew through his heart’s delicate ion channels, stopping the aberrant activity. 

The man cried out, but she ignored him -- pain was manageable and they needed him alive. For now.

She lifted one hand, adjusting the other so that she didn’t have to expend as much energy to continue monitoring his heart, her mind racing. Certainly he had suffered a considerable amount of damage over the past few years based on the scar tissue she could see, but nothing she could sense would cause abrupt cardiac arrest in a healthy young adult. It was baffling.

Suddenly, something whispered through her chakra sense. She frowned before the energy seemed to move under her hand… and through the heart.

The man jerked in a full-body spasm as his heart started beating erratically again, losing coordination in the same way as before. Tsunade swore as the door swung open to reveal a secondary unit of ANBU led by a ferocious-looking Jiraiya. He quickly took in the scene and opened his mouth, obviously about to ask for an explanation, but she didn’t have time to explain. 

“Get me a gurney and an operating room! Now!”

Tsunade still had far too many questions and she unfortunately needed this man alive to get the answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re: Eye reattachment: So the thing about our eyes is that the way they attach to muscles and nerves, they’re mirrors of each other, which means that those attachments go to different spots on the right and left eye. AKA, you cannot swap eyes willy-nilly, dammit! The side matters!
> 
> Also, please don’t kill us! This series WILL have a happy ending; however, the ride will be an extremely bumpy one. Sorry, not sorry? XD
> 
> Last but not least! We have a tumblr! We are not the most prolific posters, but it’s a great place to come chat! www.tumblr.com/blog/view/tes-and-shy  
> (Let us know if there are issues with the link!)
> 
> Stay tuned! We’re working on some other projects on the road to Christmas, so we can’t promise that the third chapter will be out before the end of the year, but we’ll try our damnedest--it's gonna be a doozy!

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you are just as excited to get to this part of the timeline as we are! We're going to post a few more fics in the future that will go back in time to before the Reveal, but from here on out, most of it is going to be the aftermath *evil plotting hands* and it ain't gonna be easy. 
> 
> Also, we realized while writing this that Orochimaru -- the Snake Sannin -- was the Kage of the Land of Grass. He was a literal snake hidden in the grass…


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